


Melyn Mair

by emyn ab morlan (gwenynnefydd)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dressing, Expelli-gender! 2020, F/F, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Imprisonment, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, POC Hermione Granger, Trans Hermione Granger, Trans Luna Lovegood, gender validation, hermione be out here supporting her trans sisters and knitting breast forms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26190016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/emyn%20ab%20morlan
Summary: Following her imprisonment at Malfoy Manor, Luna is left without the items that make her feel like herself. Hermione knows just how to help.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58
Collections: Expelli-gender! 2020





	Melyn Mair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coeurire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coeurire/gifts).



There is no screaming in Shell Cottage. That is the first thing Luna noticed when she came to stay. She would’ve imagined there be screaming - with a victim of torture (Hermione) and three incarcerated folk (herself, Ollivander, Griphook), she would’ve expected there to be flashbacks, nightmares at least, something that accompanied the scream she felt bubbling low in her throat whenever she saw her scars. But there was nothing, barely a whimper, and each morning she would wake up, and find everyone at the breakfast table, quiet and pensive, in that stifling silence that blared everything that wasn't being discussed. 

Fleur and Bill had taken her aside for debriefing when she had arrived, talking in hushed tones about what she remembered, and what she knew, but Luna was still in shock then and didn’t reveal much. She remembers getting hugged by the both of them, the scent of Bill’s aftershave, Fleur’s soft, manicured hands on her hair, and then she was sent to the small bedroom to share with Hermione. And then came the quiet, and all the things she wanted to say bubbled as a restless energy beneath her skin. She had considered speaking to Hermione - Hermione knew what it was like, what she had been through - but every time she looked her way the words got stuck and clogged in her throat.

There were things she needed that she could not ask for. When she had first been imprisoned, Bellatrix had stripped her of all the things that made her feel feminine - Luna could still hear her squawk of glee as she stripped her of her breast forms, her jewellery, her tucking gaff, and all her feminine clothes, replacing it with a shapeless shift. Without access to her medication for those weeks, Luna’s dysphoria was running riot, the pain and the anger trying to bleed out of her ears every time she swallowed the scream. 

Fleur had lent her clothes, floral chemises and pleated robes, but they were ill fitting and hung oddly to her dysphoria-tinted gaze. The undergarments gaped in some places, and was too tight in others, which made Luna feel ugly and ashamed. It was not Fleur’s fault - she supposed that it was difficult visiting Madam Malkins when Death Eaters roamed the street. It felt like the first time her father had found her trying on her mother’s old clothes, when she was thirteen, face made up exactly how she’d seen the Ravenclaw girls in the dorm do it. His confused, upset expression still haunted her in her darkest, most dysphoric moments, despite her father now being her staunchest advocate.

Well, _having been_ her staunchest advocate. Luna didn’t actually know where he was now. 

One morning, Hermione had walked in on her changing. Despite them staying in the same room, Luna often insisted on changing in the bathroom - a relic from living in the dorms, avoiding the stares and whispered comments of her Ravenclaw roommates on her body. But today someone was in the shower, and had been for quite some time, and Luna wasn’t entirely sure they’d leave before breakfast downstairs got cold. And so she opted to change in the room, attempting a quick, militaristic change so that she didn’t have to see her own body. And then Hermione had walked in.

“Oh!” she said, looking aside. “Sorry Luna, I thought you were still asleep.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, airy as always. “You’ve seen it all before, living in a girls’ dorm.”

The dysphoric little voice at the back of her head reminded her that Hermione probably hadn’t seen a body like _this_ , this weird twisted little thing, but she shut that down, and pulled on her knickers and jeans.

“Oh, sure,” Hermione replied, puttering around the room. “But I know you prefer to dress in private. I would too, after months of dressing in front of Harry and Ron…”

Luna smiled at her, but then turned away to put on a borrowed bra. The bra was nice, all floral and soft, worn at the tips of the underwire, but the band was tight and the clasps were uncooperative at best. She struggled with it, contorting her hands and shoulders this way and that, but the clasps just slipped through her fingers. She sighed quietly, and tried again, and again, trying to hook the thing and tamp down the internal dysphoria that laughed at her and mocked her, _how could she be a real woman and not do this simple thing-_

“Here, let me-”

Warm hands came to her back, and Luna was suddenly assaulted with Hermione’s scent, cedarwood and pencil shavings, and she felt her stomach flip at the close contact. She hoped, being turned away, Hermione could not see the full red flush on her cheeks. With a twist of her hands, Hermione had the thing clipped into place.

“It took me ages to get the hang of these,” she said, conversationally, as she smoothed down the back of the bra. “When I came out as trans to my parents, my mother had to do them up for me for the entire summer.”

Luna supposed she should say thank you, say something about the Hollygather Blimps that made her fingers all sweaty, let Hermione go and return to dressing her treacherous body, but she was tired, and Hermione was _like her_ , and if she didn’t speak about this the scream that had been bubbling at the base of her throat would’ve ripped itself free. Instead she asked;

“How do you stand it?” 

She felt Hermione’s hands still against her back. “Stand what?”

“Stand living like _this._ ” Luna turned to face her. “Running. Hiding. Not having access to everything you need, but not wanting to complain because at least you’re not dead, at _least_ you’re safe for now, at _least-_ ”

She had not realised how sharp or how upset her voice had turned, but she suddenly found Hermione’s arms around her in a tight hug, and _oh_ Luna hadn’t realised how much she had missed touch until she was enveloped. Hesitantly, Luna hugged her back, burying her face in Hermione’s kinky-curly hair with an ill-disguised sob. The scream that had been building up easily translated it to tears and sobbing, and Luna held Hermione close as she cried for the first time in a long time. They stood there, swaying a little, drawing what comfort they could from each other, until Luna spoke again,

“Hermione,” she murmured. “Hermione, I feel like I’m burning alive.”

Hermione drew away for a moment, looking her up and down, before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Let me help,” she said, softly. “I can’t solve everything, but let me help. Please.”

With only a moment’s pause, Luna nodded, and let her go. Hermione was not gone for long - she only stepped across the room to rummage through her bag. She then pulled out two knitted items - breast forms, Luna noted with a laugh, made of bright blue yarn. Hermione carefully tucked them into Luna’s bra, small brown hands smoothing over the fabric and ensuring they sat properly. Luna felt a deep warm feeling at the intimate action, but Hermione wasn’t done - she returned to her bag, and pulled out a floral collared shirt, covered in sunflowers. This was more heavy-duty than Fleur’s blouses, and fitted much better - the hem dropped down to sit at her hips, which suited the flared jeans just fine. Hermione carefully buttoned the shirt for her, then removed from her pockets a pair of sunflower earrings, which she carefully placed in Luna’s earlobes. 

“I feel more like myself already.” Luna murmured, and was rewarded with a sunny smile from Hermione.

“It’s not a Butterbeer cork necklace, but I thought it would suit.” she smiled. “Just one more thing…”

Hermione did not go back to her bag for this one, but instead withdrew a small vial from her pocket. Luna recognised the contents immediately. There wa no way to mistake the marigold coloured syrup that sloshed in its glass house.

“Here,” she said, pressing the vial into her hand. “It’s E. I made plenty for the journey, and Bill’s said he’ll make a postal order for potion ingredients so I can make more.”

“Are you certain?” Luna asked, thumb rubbing at the cork stopper.

“I can take a half-dose for a while.” Hermione said. “It’ll only be for the week or so it’ll take for Bill’s order to come. Then I can make enough for the both of us.”

Almost overwhelmed, Luna did the only thing she could think of - she surged forward and kissed the other girl. Hermione kissed her back, soft lips warm and pleasing against Luna’s thinner ones. The sun from the rising dawn rose and shone through the window, bathing them in a warm glow, and Luna could not imagine a kiss more perfect.

“Thank you,” she murmured against Hermione’s lips. “ _Thank you._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> did you know my docs once took me off T cold turkey?
> 
> it SUCKED
> 
> so luna gets her meds again so she Does Not Go Through That
> 
> anyways i hope you like this coeurire!!! i am Here for the good trans femslash content


End file.
